Battle of Spotsylvania

J. H. JOHNSON, Song Publisher, Stationer & Printer, No. 7 N. 10th St., Phila.

Battle Of Spottsylvania.

Weep not for me, my mother dear,
When the sad tidings you shall hear,
That I am numbered with the slain,
On Spottsylvania’s battle plain.

O, sister dear! my last adieu,
I send all stained with crimson hue;
Break not your heart, your brother cries,
In freedom’s cause your brother dies.

Amid the din of battle sore—
The clash of arms, and cannon’s roar,
‘Mid the fierce storm of leaden hail,
Being hit—my strength begins to fail.

Weep not for me, my mother dear,
When the sad tidings you shall hear,
That I am numbered with the slain,
On Spottsylvania’s battle plain.

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